


Must do better

by chick_with_wifi



Series: Isn't there a law against that? [2]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, Fluff, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-08 23:55:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7778626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chick_with_wifi/pseuds/chick_with_wifi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There seems to be a universal law against college life going smoothly.<br/>Featuring: Root and Shaw sharing a dorm room, Joss Carter being the only reason their asses aren’t in jail and it being a small wonder any of them actually manage get any work done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. chapter 1

“Root,” repeated Shaw for what felt like the umpteenth time.

Her girlfriend grunted and snuggled deeper into her cocoon of duvets.

“Root, get your ass out of bed!”

One of Root’s arms emerged from the covers to feebly throw her stuffed bat at Shaw who effortlessly caught it. “‘ss too early,” she mumbled.

“It’s quarter past seven. At this rate we’re going to miss breakfast!” Shaw’s stricken face proved that she deemed not eating the worst fate that could ever befall a human being. She opened her mouth to begin her soliloquy on the importance of a good breakfast, but the moment was punctuated by a sharp knock on the door. “It’s open!” she called.

Joss Carter, looking stunning as always in jeans and a white blouse, stepped into the room. “Is Root in the shower?”

“No, she’s there.” Shaw indicated with her head to the ball of covers on the bed.

“When John told me what you had in mind, Root, I thought my ears were deceiving me. Then I thought, no she actually is that insane.”

“It’s only borderline illegal,” came Root’s voice from the depths of her duvet.

“That’s the part I’m worried about,” replied Joss with the disapproving frown that seemed to be her permanent facial expression whenever Root opened her mouth.

“But-”

“No. We are not bluejacking the Principal’s phone. I don’t even want to know where you learnt to do that.”

“She is a computing major,” supplied Shaw. “They probably teach them how to hack satellites or something.”

Part of the cover rose in what was presumably Root shrugging. “Unfortunately we’ve never learnt that. Officially. And don’t worry, I’ll come up with another plan.”

Joss who threw up her arms in despair. “I’ve got to get to a meeting with the debate team. Next time you want to commit a felony, skip the bit where you call me and just pretend that I talked you out of it. See ya!”

Shaw turned her gaze to Root’s bed. “Are you actually planning on moving any time soon?”

The other woman stretched her arms above her head and rolled over, covers sliding onto the floor. “At some point, yes.”

“We do have class, unless you’ve decided to give up on all that educational rubbish.”

“Fun as that sounds, even a life of crime requires knowledge.” She sat up and immediately felt the familiar tightening in her chest that signified a coughing fit. With one hand she braced herself against the bed, and covered her mouth with the other. Shaw sat behind her girlfriend and patted her on the back until she stopped coughing long enough to breathe.

“Time to begin the day?” asked Shaw.

Root nodded, sipping from the bottle of water she kept on the nightstand and taking her morning pills. While she did her nebuliser, an inhaled antibiotic, Shaw got dressed and brushed her hair, opting to wear an oversized black hoody and dark sweatpants. Afterwards, Root got ready in record time, deciding on black skinny jeans, a blue T-shirt and of course her leather jacket, and they headed to the cafeteria for breakfast. The familiar scent of sneakers and food, and the clamor of hundreds of voices and clattering plates assaulted them as they entered. Root got a bowl of cereal and an apple, only adding a waffle to her plate at Shaw’s insistence that she needed to eat some calories. Shaw herself had two pancakes, lathered with syrup and a cup of coffee. The two girls sat with Joss, Harold and John in their usual seat near the back of the crowded room.

“So what did you conclude?” asked Shaw, making sure Root could see her lips as she spoke.

“That you are beautiful,” replied Root smoothly, shifting closer to her.

“I meant about your evil plan, Nerd.”

Root addressed their entire table, “if we can’t bluejack the Principal’s phone, then I suggest we look in the basement for the yearbook. There’ll undoubtedly be a copy gathering dust somewhere.”

Harold nodded, thoughtfully chewing his mouthful of cereal. “Yes, there probably will.”

“Remind me why we need a yearbook?” asked John.

“Because,” answered Root as Joss did a ‘she’s off again everyone clear your schedules for the next 45 minutes’ facepalm. “My freshman photo was...less than flattering and we need to destroy all earthly evidence.” 

“I see.”

Leaning closer to them all, Root stage-whispered, “we meet outside the gym tonight, do what we need then go to the club and get ourselves some solid alibis. What are y’all going to wear? We need to make this look good.”

Joss was clearly buzzing to educate them all on her dress. “I chose a lovely dark blue dress with ruffles and beading on the bodice,” she explained, pulling up a picture on her phone to show them.

“Ooh, very nice,” said Root. “I suppose John is looking forward to seeing you in this?”

John turned a very unattractive shade of red and nearly spluttered on his drink.

“Grace has informed me she has chosen an outfit, but is withholding anything more specific,” said Harold, also blushing but not as fiercely.

Root raised her eyebrows and tossed her hair. “Have the two of you chosen suits? Are you going to wear a tux?”

“That is the generally practised tradition,” agreed Harold.

The first bell rang, signalling the end of their conversation. On her way to class, Root ran into Grace who was just leaving the library. “Hey, Root, can I ask you something?”

Root glanced at her and awkwardly smiled. “Wrong side, I’m deaf in that ear.” As Grace moved to her other side she said, “what can I do for you?”

“So, Harold and I are going to the club together tonight,” she began, and Root nodded for her to continue. “And I was wondering if you thought it would be OK for me to kiss him.”

Root resisted the urge to clasp her hands together and squeal. “Of course! You two have been officially together for how long now?”

“A year and a half. You really think it would be OK?”

Root smiled at her. “Yes. Harry loves you, you love him, it’s like something out of a fairytale.”

Grace nervously fiddled with her bag strap. “If you don’t mind my asking, what happened to your, uh, ear?”

“I don’t mind at all. One of the many many medications I am on damaged the nerves in my ear. My hearing and balance is...not what it used to be.”

Grace stopped outside the art room. “I’m sorry to hear that. Thanks for the advice!”

“Any time.” Carrying on to the computer lab, Root felt excitement for Harry and Grace bubbling up inside her. She couldn't wait to see their faces! She slid into her usual seat next to Daizo and got her notebook and a pen out of her bag. Crossing her legs, she shifted into a more comfortable position as the lecture began.

…..

When Root met up with her friends that evening, she was dressed from head to toe in black, complete with ski mask obscuring her face. “Everybody ready?” she asked, brandishing a lighter.

Shaw smiled, “let’s get to work.” The four of them headed down towards the door to the basement, Root’s heeled boots clicking on the tiled floor.

“The only way those shoes could get louder is if you put bells on them,” whispered John as the even clicks echoed down the otherwise deserted hallway.

“Don’t give her ideas,” hissed Shaw, punching him lightly on the arm.

Rolling her eyes, Root leant against the wall and removed her boots. “Happy?”

“Not particularly, since you seem to have roped me into your extracurricular activities against my will,” Harold commented.

“Hey, you weren't forced to come,” protested Shaw.

“But I couldn't very well leave the three of you do this by yourselves, Sam- pardon, Shaw.” 

As they reached the door, they stopped walking. Shaw knelt down and pulled two bent paper clips out of her hoody pocket, sliding them into the lock and jimmying them around until it clicked. She pushed the door open, producing a flashlight and sweeping the beam over the dusty, damp staircase. Ignoring Harold's shocked expression, she led the way down. The air was stale and musty, with a heavy smell that suggested the basement had not been cleaned in a long time. When she reached the bottom of the staircase, Shaw slid one hand along the cold stone wall until she found the light switch. It was stiff, but eventually she turned it on and a single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling in the middle of the room flickered to life, casting a dull orange glow. In one corner was a pile of cardboard boxes labelled ‘Christmas decorations’, ‘cheerleading supplies’ and so on in black marker. There were also several slightly rusty filing cabinets and a few broken chairs scattered around. It looked like a graveyard for school years gone by.

“The yearbooks have got to be here somewhere,” Root said from behind Shaw, her voice too loud in the silent room. “Maybe one of those boxes?”

Shaw pointed her flashlight at the boxes one by one until she came across one on the top row labelled ‘yearbooks’. She lifted it down and sent a cloud of dust into the air, making Root cough. “Sorry,” grunted Shaw, setting the heavy box on the ground. Using a key, she sliced through the sellotape and lifted the most recent yearbook out. She handed John the flashlight and he held it above the book as she confirmed it was the correct one. “2014-15,” she read aloud. Before she could flick through the pages and see Root’s picture, Root took if off her and was about to ascend the stairs when voices approached.

Holding a finger to her lips, Root gestured for John to turn off the light. “Hide,” she hissed as the basement descended into darkness.

“Where?” asked Harold.

There was nowhere to hide. Root racked her brains. Perhaps she could fit into one of the boxes, but there was no way any of the others would. Not that then. “OK, new plan. We pretend to be lost exchange students. Can you do a German accent?”

“Nein,” replied Harold.

“And other single digit numbers!” said Root jovially, causing the other students to shush her in unison. “Your shushing was louder than my talking,” she whispered mock-angrily.

The voices got louder, revealing that they belonged to Mr Tao and a woman they didn’t recognise, and were accompanied by footsteps. “And this is the basement, in case you hadn't already gathered that,” said Mr Tao, opening the door and switching on the light. The four students froze like rabbits caught in headlights. For a full minute, Mr Tao and the woman stared at the students and they stared back.

“Why are you wearing a ski mask?” asked Mr Tao eventually.

Root shrugged. “Disguise.”

“It’s not a very good one, Root.”

“That’s what he takes from this situation?” Shaw muttered to John, who smirked.

“These are some of your students?” asked the woman, giving them all judgemental looks which caused Harold to try and hide behind John.

“Umm, yes,” stuttered Mr Tao.

“What are they doing here?” pressed the woman.

“I don’t know,” answered Mr Tao. “What are you doing here?”

John, Harold and Shaw looked at Root with ‘this was your bright idea’ expressions on their faces. Root shifted uncomfortably under all their gazes and laced and unlaced her fingers while trying to come up with an acceptable reason for being in the school basement. “We just wanted to look around,” was the answer she eventually decided on, accompanying it with a winning smile to disarm the woman. “You know, get a feel for the history of the school.”

“A very admirable idea,” replied the mysterious woman. “But perhaps next time you needn't go about it in such a questionable way.” She briskly turned to Mr Tao. “That will be all, Leon, thank you.”

“Of course, Miss Corwin. Do you know the way out?” The woman, Miss Corwin, turned on her heel and walked out without answering. “I’ll take that as a yes.” When she was out of earshot he said, “so what were you guys actually doing?”

“What makes you think we didn't actually just want to explore?” enquired Root.

“Oh I don't know, maybe the fact that I've met you? Or the ski mask Root is wearing? Or the open box over yonder?”

“He's not wrong,” shrugged Shaw. “Root decided she needed to burn the most recent yearbook.”

“And you just went along with it?” asked Mr Tao. 

“Yeah.”

“OK then. Well, uh, don’t do it again.” He began to climb the staircase. “And if anybody asks, I didn't see you.”

“Thank you Mr Tao”, said Harold politely.

“Guys,” said Root. “Joss does not hear about this. She’d disown us!”


	2. chapter 2

Root dramatically threw herself down on the sofa, faceplanting one of the pillows. “I’m sooooo worn out. Just call me an over washed piece of clothing.”

“Alright, Nerd,” said Shaw, taking Root’s heeled sandals off her and sitting on the other sofa. “I promise this is the last time we ever take you clubbing.”

“Thank you, Shaw,” mumbled Root, voice muffled by the pillow. 

“We’re sorry, girl,” said Joss sincerely. “Grace and I’d better get back to our room.” Root partially lifted one hand in a halfhearted wave. As Joss left, she took Grace’s arm and said, “tell me about this kiss. I need to know everything!”

Root rolled over, top riding up to expose her pale, concave stomach. “Ughhhh.”

Shaw offered Root her hand. “Come on, time to get ready for bed. What do you want to eat?”

Using Shaw’s hand, Root pulled herself into a sitting position. “Nothing.” She ran her other hand through her tangled hair.

“That wasn't really an option. We can do PT first if you want?”

Root nodded halfheartedly and dragged herself into the bedroom for physiotherapy. She lay down on her bed and Shaw patted her on the chest which dislodged the mucus and made it easier to cough up. Just one of the many joys of having CF, thought Root. At least she had Shaw, the best girlfriend in the world who was willing to help her with anything. Words could not express how grateful she was, especially when Shaw took charge because she was too exhausted to think for herself and made sure she did everything she needed to. Half an hour later they had finished, and Root thanked Shaw for her help.

“You do your nebulizer and I’ll fix us some food,” said Shaw.

Root nodded obediently and did as she was told. Once she was finished, she went into the kitchen and put her arms around her girlfriend's waist and rested her head on he shoulder. “What are we having?”

“The fantastic delicacy of grilled cheese,” replied Shaw. “And don't worry, I didn't go too heavy with the cheese.”

Root kissed her behind the ear. “What did I do to deserve you?” she muttered.

“Not judging me,” replied Shaw, not looking at her. “For what I don't feel, for how I'm not like other people. For never trying to change me or force me to express things.”

Root gently took Shaw’s face in her hands. “You know I would never try to change you or make you do something you’re uncomfortable with. You are perfect just the way you are.”

Shaw grabbed Root by the waist and kissed her slowly. When she eventually pulled away, she said, “I like you, Root.”

“I like you too, Shaw.” She took the plate Shaw handed her and perched on her bed in her pyjamas to eat it. The two of them ate in silence, too tired to engage in conversation. Eventually they were about to get in bed when Root’s phone rang. She went into their ensuite bathroom to take the call, tapping the sink with the nails of her free hand. “Hello?”

“Root, it’s Harold.”

“What about him?”

“No, I mean it’s me, Harold.”

“I know, I was just messing with you. How can I help?”

“I need you to bail me out of jail.”

For a second Root was too stunned to respond. When her brain had actually processed the information, she bit her knuckle to stop herself laughing. She stayed like that until she trusted herself to respond.

“Are you still there?”

“Yes, I’m here. How much do you need?”

“500 dollars. Please hurry!”

“I’m on my way.” Root hung up and shook her head once, as if clearing cobwebs from it. Then she stepped back into the bedroom. “Grab your coat, Shaw.”

Shaw shoved the last of her grilled cheese into her mouth and stood up. “Where are we going?”

“To bail Harry out of jail.” Root slid her leather jacket on over her blue pyjamas and after a brief debate decided on her bunny slippers.

“You’re really going out dressed like that?” asked Shaw incredulously as she pulled on her hoodie and a pair of jeans over her pyjamas.

Root shrugged. “I’m too tired to get changed. Let’s go.”

…..

When the two girls pulled up outside the holding cell, Root was beginning to seriously regret her wardrobe choice. Not because she felt stupid, but because it was cold. The sort of cold that, combined with nerves, made her shiver and covered her arms in goosebumps.

“This it?” asked Shaw. Root nodded and unclipped her belt. 

When they entered the cell a guard in uniform looked them over and cocked an eyebrow at Root’s attire. “Can I help you?”

“We’re here to bail our friend out,” answered Root politely.

“That your friend?” He pointed to Harold who was sat in the holding cell staring forlornly at the floor like he’d lost the will to live.

“Yup.” Root led the way to the cell, and at the sound of her footsteps Harold looked up.

“Root! I’ve never been happier to see your face!”

Root blinked. “Who are you and what have you done with Harold Finch?”

He gripped the bars. “It’s the slammer. It changes you.”

“You’ve only been in here twenty minutes!”

Shaw rolled her eyes. “It would have been fifteen but somebody, not naming any names, couldn't find their car keys...Root.”

“Thank you so much for com-hey!”

Root had pulled her phone out of her pocket and was taking pictures of her friend in his cell, laughing. “Smile!”

“You’d better not put that on WhatsApp,” threatened Harold.

“Don't give her ideas,” hissed Shaw. Her phone dinged signalling there was a new message on their group chat, and she rolled her eyes. Walking over to the guard, Shaw thrust the money at him.

Root was still laughing at the pictures, and Shaw stood taciturnly in the corner while the guard let Harold out. “I knew I should have called John,” he sighed.

“What was the big lug going to do?” asked Root in a tone that made it clear just what she thought of him.

“Brood?” offered Shaw, earning herself a high-five from Root.

“Fine. Just...let’s go home and we can discuss this in the morning,” said Harold wearily on their way to the car.

“What did you do?” asked Root.

“In the morning,” he repeated forcefully.

“OK,” said Shaw, starting the engine. They drove back in silence, Root’s head nodding against the window and Harold muttering something to himself that sounded an awful lot like he was practicing his testimony in court.

“You know,” said Shaw quietly. “Joss is majoring in law, I’m sure she could help your case.”

“There is an explicit reason why I didn't call Joss.”

Shaw motored the car along the street. “You called our useless asses instead.”

“Slow down, Shaw!” stage-whispered Harold when he finally realised how fast they were going.

“I only drive at one speed, Harold. I could always turf you?”

“No! No turfing, speeding, or calling of our esteemed friend Jocelyn.”

Shaw sighed and pulled up outside their dorm. While Harold got out, she opened the back door and lifted the sleeping Root out, carrying her towards their shared dorm.

“Do you need some help?” asked Harold.

“She’s not heavy,” replied Shaw. And it was true, Root was 5’2” and weighed 110 pounds. “Good night, Harold.”

“Good night.” They went their separate ways for the night.

When Shaw entered their room, she lay Root down on the bed and put a cover over her.

“Sameen,” mumbled Root sleepily, eyes closed.

“Yes?”

“Thank you.” She rolled onto her side and got comfortable, cuddling her stuffed bat.

Shaw smiled at the cuteness, then got into bed herself. “You’re welcome.”


	3. chapter 3

Root and Shaw were bursting from curiosity for the entire morning, coming up with increasingly outrageous possible reasons for their friend being in jail.

“Maybe it was a case of mistaken identity?” guessed Shaw while they were in class together.

“Perhaps,” mused Root. “Or maybe he stole something!”

“But you know how he is like really mysterious and won't tell us his middle name or anything remotely personal?” asked Shaw.

“Yes?”

“I’m just saying that, hypothetically, it would not be a complete shock to us if, hypothetically, it were to become apparent that he, hypothetically -”

“Shaw, I’m certain you have a point with this but it must be located somewhere to my right because I can't hear it.”

Shaw laughed and said, “I’m just saying he might be running a secret crime syndicate or something, but he probably isn't.”

“I doubt he is,” agreed Root. She looked at her watch, “but we just have to hold on for another half hour then he’ll tell us.” She leant back in her chair and stretched out her legs, crossing her ankles. Her back was beginning to hurt from all the time she had spent sat down so she stretched it and attempted to find a more comfortable way of resting it on the backrest of the chair.

The professor continued his lesson as the minutes ticked by. Finally, he set them their assignment and the bell rang. Root tossed her things into her bag as Shaw did the same and they hauled ass to the cafeteria. Or tried to. The crowded corridors meant their progress was slow going.

Harold, nervously tapping his foot, was already sat at their usual table holding hands with Grace. Root and Shaw sat with him just as Joss and John entered. “What was so important that had to wait for all of us?” asked John.

“Harold was in prison!” announced Root with an evil grin.

“Harold George Finch,” began Joss angrily, ignoring his protest of ‘my middle name isn't George!’, “why were you in jail?”

“Tax evasion,” he replied, looking at the table shamefacedly. “You might remember that coding project Root and I were working on way back when. Well, I started setting some money aside to buy processing chips and monitors and so forth to build a supercomputer from scratch.”

John leaned over to Joss. “I don't speak nerd. Why was he in jail?”

“For being a nerd who doesn't pay tax,” she replied in a whisper. “Do you have to make a court appearance?” she asked Harold.

“No, but I have to pay all the tax plus interest. I don't have that sort of money!” He ran his hands through his hair and Grace smiled at him sympathetically, caressing his hand with her own.

“We’ll handle getting the money,” promised Root.

“How?” asked Harold from behind his hands.

“We’ll throw a party and make people pay to come,” she decided on the spot, accompanying her decision by hitting the end of her fork on the table like a judge with a gavel.

“That's actually...not a terrible idea. Well done, Root,” said Shaw.

Root gasped. “Wherefore agreeth thou with me, Shaw?” She gestured at John, “scribe, writeth this down. Sameen Shaw hath agreed with me!”

But John was too busy staring at something behind them with a transfixed expression on his face.

“John?” said Joss, waving at him. “Hello, is anybody there?”

“John you're being weird,” frowned Shaw, punching him in the arm.

He blinked and returned to the present. “Sorry, there was a fight about to break out over there.”

Root huffed and folded her arms. “Shaw agreed with me and you missed it because you were too busy swannecking on some hooligans.”

“What-necking on some what?” asked Shaw.

“Swan...hooligans.”

“Wait,” said Grace thoughtfully, holding up a hand. “You don't go to jail for tax evasion and when you called Root it was the middle of the night - so why were you in a holding cell?”

“Oh, thaaaaat.” Harold let out a forced laugh. “I smh a khh,” he mumbled.

“Speak up Harry, I am partially deaf you know,” sing-songed Root.

“I stole a car,” he blurted, promptly turning bright red.

“You what?!” shrieked Joss.

“Calm down Honey,” said John, patting her on the arm.

Joss shook her head. “And why, pray tell, did you steal a car?”

“Or more importantly: how?” asked Root excitedly. “Did you hot wire it? Steal the keys? Drug the driver and leave them on the side of the road?” With every possible option Shaw’s eyes grew wider and she shifted her chair further away from Root.

“I hot wired it,” said Harold. “But I was going to give it back! I only needed it to drive to Jersey over the weekend.”

“And why were you driving to Jersey?” asked Joss with her head on the table. Apparently a facepalm just wouldn't cut it and she had to facetable.

“To meet with some friends who had a part I wanted for the machine I’m building.”

“Did it ever occur to you,” began John, “that this machine might be more trouble than it's worth?”

“Perhaps.” He picked aimlessly at his sleeve cuff.

The group fell into a silence which was eventually punctuated by the bell.

“Shaw and I will start planning this party. Won't we, Shaw?” She elbowed Shaw in the ribs.

“We will. See you guys later.” Shaw nodded her goodbyes and followed Root back to their dorm.


	4. Chapter 4

The common room had been transformed over the course of the next evening into a disco paradise. Somebody had brought in loudspeakers and music was blaring in the background from Root’s Spotify playlist which was a random mix of pop and country. The tables had all been pushed to one side and were littered with food, which Shaw had been in charge of. There were pizza slices, a salad bowl, cups of punch and various other party essentials like bowls of crisps that nobody was entirely sure of the flavour of. Root had even found a contact who had access to proper disco lighting, so the entire room was alternatively flooded with green, red and blue from roving spotlights set up in a corner. Hanging from the ceiling was a glitter ball that twinkled with a thousand colours every time one of the spotlights caught it.

Root danced over to where Shaw and Harold were stood by the door next to the printed PowerPoint slide that read ‘2 dollars entry’ under which somebody with handwriting that looked remarkably like Joss’s had added ‘Harold better not break the law again’.

“How much have we got?” asked Root over the din 

Shaw looked down at the bucket filled with crumpled notes she was holding and tilted it this way and that, trying to find an angle with enough light to try and count it. “I don't know but it looks good.”

“Grand,” said Harold, clasping his hands together.

Root peered at the bucket. “Actually, I think it’s closer to a hundred.”

“Is everyone having fun?” asked Shaw, gesturing to the students on the dance floor. It was crowded with their friends dancing and laughing.

Root nodded. “Absolutely. Can you see John and Joss over there?” She pointed to where their friends were slow dancing to a song Root couldn't make out over everybody talking.

Zoe sidled over to them. “Hey. Great party.”

“Thanks,” said Root.

“I heard it was because Harold was avoiding paying tax? And stole a car? And was about to buy semi illegal computer parts?”

“You heard right,” said Root. “You look great, by the way.”

“Thanks.” She was wearing a pale blue dress with a slash on one side and killer heels. Her hair and makeup was, as always, impeccable.

“How did you know all that?” asked Harold.

“She’s Zoe Morgan,” said Shaw. “She knows everything.”

“Shaw’s right,” said Zoe with a wink before vanishing into the throng of dancing people.

“Hey there,” said a voice from behind them. Grace was stood in the doorway wearing a white T-shirt, a black wraparound skirt and black sandals. She had straightened her hair and pinned part of it up. Shyly, she handed Shaw two dollars and took Harold’s arm.

“May I have this dance?” he asked.

“With pleasure.” He led her to the dance floor and twirled her around. “I like your suit, by the way.”

“Thank you.” Gently, Harold twirled her again then they began slowly moving to the music in each other's arms.

“They look so happy,” sighed Root wistfully with her hands clasped in front of her face.

Shaw looked at her sideways. “You want to dance?”

“I...uh...yes,” she squeaked.

“Come on, Nerd.” Shaw set down the money bucket and whisked Root onto the dance floor, momentarily pausing to change the track on the sound system and turn up the volume. They began dancing, moving gracefully with each other like it was second nature.

“Do you remember that party we went to after you won that athletics thing?” asked Root, leaning closer to Shaw.

“The one where Harold and Grace met? And you threw up in the bathroom?”

Root laughed. “You just had to bring that up, didn't you?”

“I..uh.” She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it's alright. I wasn't getting at you. I was just thinking about the conversation we had where you called me hot in Farsi.” That conversation had been one of her most cherished memories for a long time.

“And you taught me this.” Where their hands were clasped, Shaw made the sign for ‘I love you’ against Root’s palm. “Or at least the closest I can come to it,” she added quietly.

Root smiled and kissed her on the cheek.

…..

The rest of the party passed in a blur of dancing, eating and counting money until they had surpassed their total and began clearing up. People filtered out in small groups or pairs until it was only Root, Shaw, Harold, Grace, Joss and John left. 

“We should have a little celebration for keeping Harry’s ass out of jail. And, you know, the rest of him as well,” decided Root. She climbed up onto one of the tables and started dancing and singing terribly along to the music. She held her hand out to Shaw who joined her. There wasn't enough room to dance properly, so they just swayed a little. Until the track changed to ‘I’m a believer’ at which point Root signed the words (because she didn't want them to have to listen to her sing any more) while dancing energetically on the spot. Soon all of them were having a rave on the tables that ended in them all kissing their significant other.

“That reminded me of the last part of ‘La Vie Boheme’ from Rent,” said Root as she hopped down from the table and surveyed the mess. “We might want to clear up.”

“These lights go in that box over there,” explained Shaw, pointing at a cardboard box in the corner.

“OK.” Root went to pick up the box, but her path was obstructed by another box which sent her pitching forwards, so she stumbled backwards to try and balance herself but somehow ended up sat in the box. “That didn't quite go to plan,” she muttered to herself. She stood up and took a bow. “And for my next trick, I’m going to successfully walk across the room.”

Somehow she managed to, and spent the next few minutes tidying up.

“I don't think I’ve done this qute right,” came Harold’s slightly muffled voice. Root turned to see him wrapped in an aux cord and an extension cord with a cardboard box on his head. 

“You look like a Christmas tree!” laughed Grace, snapping a picture on her phone. “That's going as your contact icon.”

“I...you...no,” spluttered Harold indignantly. “Can one of you at least help me?”

Joss was trying so hard not to laugh that she was doubled over biting her fist. Shaw’s eyebrows were so far up they looked like they had become one with her scalp. Root had ended up pulling some seriously weird faces while trying to help Harold preserve his dignity.

John gave them all judgemental looks and helped Harold disentangle himself from the cords and remove the box. “How did that even happen?”

“If I knew, perhaps I could have prevented it,” sighed Harold. “Unfortunately, it was only my remaining shreds of dignity that were hurt.”

“In fairness, Root tried really really hard to keep a straight face,” said Shaw.

“Oh Sweetie, my face is never straight,” purred Root.

“These puns have to stop,” ordered Shaw.

“But they're so...punny.”

“STOP.”

“But-” Shaw held up a hand and Root snapped her mouth shut.

“Can you help me load these into the car?” asked Shaw. Root nodded and picked up a smaller box. “Then maybe tomorrow we should do some studying. You know, instead of partying and breaking the law.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it for now, but I might end up writing more of this series at some point because it is really close to my heart. Thank you for reading!


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